Snow Martini
by Pan-snow
Summary: A chance encounter between Tifa and Reno in Midgar. Pre-Meteor-Tifa and Reno are both teenagers trying to survive in a harsh world.


Disclaimer: I do not own the Final Fantasy 7 characters. and so on.  
  
Author's note: Tifa and Reno are around 16 and 17 in this story.  
  
"How could it be so cold," he mumbled to himself.   
  
A sharp wind bit across his cheek. He grasped his jacket pulling it closer to him. The wind seeped through the worn denim, thriving on whatever warmth left in the threads. The wind struck carrying the putrid rotten smell of the streets and of old gasoline.   
  
He raised his arm attempting to shield his eyes from any particles of sand floating in the midst. His head snapped back when it saw the familiar face of an old decrepit building. The paint meticulously peeled off with a yellow mold permeating against one of the sides. The door was kept slightly ajar as though beckoning him to enter. He grasped the door, removing his jacket to wipe the rigid fragments of glass protruding against the door.   
  
He took a seat. The lady placed a cup under the firm counter.   
  
His fingers trembled at his lips. They quivered under the numbing touch, they must have been dead. Dead, like the rest of Midgar. At least he couldn't smell from inside, he couldn't smell the spoiled apples and rotting muck from people's shoes. He couldn't smell the tears of children, blood of labor. Inside it smelled intoxicatingly sweet.   
  
He swallowed.   
  
Traces of the dark liquor hidden in the crevices of his lips, resurrecting them from the dead.   
  
He closed his eye. He wanted to forget, forget his life, forget everything, let it melt..   
  
His eyes wandered back to his drink. His fiery red hair was disheveled in the murky water. Strands of hair dangling carelessly on his forehead. His eyes heavy, wielding a great weight unnatural for someone his age.   
  
He didn't want this, he didn't want any of this. His hand reached out with his glass, in his attempt to procure another drink. Tapping his glass incessantly on the cold table. The glass felt so fragile under his touch. He clasped the glass tightly. If he just pressed a little harder, it would break, shatter into a thousand shards. Nothing could save it.  
  
A hand grasped the boy's arm.  
  
" Stop it already, that thumping is driving me crazy," said a young brunette.  
  
The boy grinned.  
  
"Well, if you would have come here faster, I wouldn't have to, would I?"  
  
He smirked, curling his lips. His eyes were still averted and distant.  
  
" Well, aren't you rather young?" she asked incredulously.  
  
The boy snapped his head, staring at the brunette with her hair draping down her shoulders.  
  
"You should be talking," he said bitterly. "Just pour my damn drink!" Pounding the glass against the counter, letting the sound echo into a cold hole.  
  
"No!" she said firmly, pressing her weight against the counter.  
  
"Bitch, just get me a fucking drink," he seethed. His glare cold and unrelenting. His eyes piercing into her. She couldn't help but wince. Every word was venom, another drink would just be poison.  
  
"No its Tifa, I'm not a freaking dog and I'm not going to give you another drink ," she said louder more forcefully, biting down on her lip." You had enough, go home."  
  
"Tifa..," he whispered. His mouth slightly parted in a drunken laugh; his hands folded across the back of his head.  
  
" Well, mine is Reno since you were asking and maybe we could go for a date to a....bar," he grinned with a devilish smile.  
  
"I'm not giving you a drink, so you can stop,"  
  
"Well it was worth a try," he said fingering his drink.  
  
"Please, Just pour me my drink," he said tentatively unsure of the words. The glass was limp in his fingers. If being an ass wasn't working he would try to be nice.  
  
The girl stared at Reno's face. It was dirtied and sticky. Two diagonal scars pierced the side of his cheek. The skin there was charred and twisted.  
  
"What happened?" Tifa said softly.  
  
"What?" Reno said befuddled, arching his brow. She reached over the wooden mahogany counter in one fluid motion and traced the scar with her finger. He winced as her fingers met his skin. Her fingers felt peculiar against his skin. Winter blanketed by Summer. Cuts marred the porcelain skin, leaving random scars that stretched across her small hand. A reassuring warmth emanated from her hand stretching through Reno's mask, his scars, his pain, his guise. He just wanted to fall deeper into those hands, until all the warmth filled the void that stretched darkly through his heart.  
  
What was he thinking? He shook his head furiously. She wasn't anything to him, just another person, just another stranger, just another nobody.  
  
After a few seconds of hesitation, he untangled himself from her touch, cupping his hand over the scar concealing it from her view.  
  
"Nothing..it's old. ," he said slowly, his gaze fixed on the ground. His hand still pressed firmly on his cheek. It was a mirror to his tormented soul. Reno silently hoped that Tifa wouldn't peer deeper into it. It was a gateway to hell. A place of torn dream, winged beasts, and haunting memories..  
  
He didn't want to let her see those wrinkled dirty memories. He just wanted to push her away. Away from Midgar, away from Sector 7, away from him..  
  
Sorrow churned in with regret, the mixing pot of his life.  
  
Tifa stared at her stained finger. A clean hand smudged by blood. The cut was new, the skin there was raw. The scar was deep. Staring at Reno, made the memories and pain she had hoped to forget come alive again. The lock she placed so earnestly was beginning to unlatch. She didn't want to remember. Her hands unconsciously ran across her chest and it burned. They both were scarred.  
  
"Just giver me a drink.. I need it," he pleaded. He didn't want to be sober, he rather be dead than be sober. He didn't want to be sober because he didn't want to remember what was behind or ahead of them. Alcohol had a way of making everything disappear. Even if it was transient, for those few hours he could forget the world, forget his life, and just be happy.  
  
He shook his head. He didn't know if he was really happy. But if it was just a lie..if it was just another lie..it wouldn't matter. it was the best thing going for him..  
  
"I can't do this, I need a drink!" he stammered.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Her hand was still folded across her chest. The scars piercing Reno's face made the scar under her cotton shirt feel visible and tainted.  
  
"I had to take care of stuff, things happened and I got hurt. Now, can you just give me a drink. I have to." His tongue froze and the words melted away.  
  
A jar of water was suddenly knocked from its stagnant position on the counter. Tifa caught the jar in one fluid motion. However, catching the jar caused her to receive the full repercussions of her action. Her cotton shirt became a damp towel. She wrinkled a piece of cloth attempting to wipe the mess. Her head tilted to one side, and she silently scolded herself for being so clumsy.  
  
Reno stared at Tifa, as she diligently cleaned the counter and the floor. Indulged in the maintenance of the bar, she forgot her own wet misery. Half her white cotton shirt was soaked with water, the fibers slowly loosening under the heavy weight of the droplets.  
  
Reno's eyes widened.  
  
Underneath the translucent white cloth, two diagonal marks painted her skin. The scar was rigid, recovering slowly. Reno's fingers crawled back to his cheek. Brushing it slightly with the tips of his fingers; dismissing the silent quivers of pain.   
  
Tifa was pressing her finger against the counter with a great force, hoping to squelch every inch of water which gushed forth from the jug. She wiped her hands against her pants. Her head tilted up in Reno's direction. Blue green was steadily staring at her. His mouth slightly parted.   
  
A melancholy shadowing those stoic aqua green eyes. Her eyes slowly inched up until she saw the scarlet letter which his eyes had been fastened on. A X...   
  
Her hands instinctively wrapped themselves around her chest. Her mind went dark. An insidious smile crept into her mind....Sephiroth..   
  
Reno's eyes locked on hers.   
  
He hadn't the eyes to realize that he wasn't the only one who had it rough.   
  
He wasn't going to ask her what happened; he didn't need to be muddled with the details. Just knowing is sometimes good enough. Just knowing that there was someone there who understood; someone who has been through hell and back.   
  
Her eyes were glazed as she bit down on her lower lip, letting the blood wet her dried lips. "We're both scarred aren't we," he said softly. All the marks of frustration dissipated from his face. The cold marble softened.   
  
"Forgetting is so much easier than remembering. I just wanted turn a gun to my head sometimes, it would make my head feel lighter," he said calmly." Nothings binding me here, I can leave and no one would care,"   
  
"You can't just run away here," her voice inflecting with every word. "You can't!"   
  
"I'm not, it's just people can fucking screw you over. And, It's hard to find fucking food every day. Having the scrounge up all the gill in your pockets to stay in freaking shit hole!" he paused letting himself time to even out. " You need someone to live for, you need someone there to care,"   
  
She let out a breath.  
  
He reminded her of her herself.   
  
"Live for yourself," she said softly emphasizing every word.   
  
"I care," she whispered quietly, words only audible to her ears.   
  
"Tifa we need help in the back," a voice called out from the back of the bar.   
  
Reno watched as the girl entangled herself from her position and swiftly moved back toward the end of the darkened bar.   
  
Tifa's hands were once again wrapped around her chest. Her hands were searching for an apron as she became conscious of her appearance. Her hands fumbled against jars as she agilely poured the wine and vodka into glass cups.   
  
Mahogany eyes reflected the wine, making them appeared even more resilient. Strands of hair were sticking to her face. Unsuccessfully, she attempted to untangle her hair while she served the drinks.   
  
He gave a rueful smile. It was sad how she didn't realize how beautiful she was.   
  
Tifa arrived back to her position beside Reno, cleaning cups.   
  
"You're pretty, Tif," he smirked. A wide grin plastered on his face.   
  
Her porcelain cheeks gradually grew reddish, pink. Her whole body froze, like a deer caught in headlights.   
  
".." His smile widened.   
  
"You're no bad yourself Reno," she mumbled awkwardly.   
  
He gave a deep laugh. Then the smile slowly dissipated.   
  
His eyes slowly drifting to the window and those long forgotten memories.   
  
"Don't ever tell anyone you love them, unless you really do," Reno said softly, his eyes still titled toward the window. "Don't ever take for granted those words, you can't just say them whenever you god damn please, someone just ends up getting hurting.."   
  
Tifa didn't move.   
  
" Promise me Tifa,"   
  
"..I promise,"   
  
Tifa stared at Reno harder, trying to peal back the layer, trying to understand. Maybe she didn't need to understand it now..   
  
"Closing time in five minutes Tif," a man from the back yelled.   
  
She turned frantically toward Reno. His presence was comforting and in a way she didn't want him to leave.   
  
Tentatively he pressed his lips together. .."Bye Tif"   
  
"Bye."   
  
The moment could not last. Nothing good could last forever.   
  
"Wait!"  
  
Reno turned his head. A wrinkled flower fell toward his palm.  
  
Reno stared at it quizzically. The torn petals, fading color.  
  
The only flower he had seen in Midgar for a long time.  
  
"Hold on to it for me,"  
  
He gave a lopsided grin, grabbing the flower and turning his head, letting his fingers search for the door. The cold hit him, he wince at the sudden gush of wind. As his finger gripped the cold iron handle, he felt the warmth fade and the moment flutter and die. Only to be remembered in memories.  
  
He twirled the flower in his fingers, surreptitiously staring at it from the corner of his eyes. It wasn't dead, it was alive. It was real.  
  
The cold burned through his lips. Reminding him why he wanted to go to the bar.   
  
His lips slowly curved.   
  
I never got that drink.   
  
He turned his head and gave a cursory glance at the bar; a wistful smile crept to his lips.   
  
His feet, followed the street lamps down Sector 7 and into the graceful night. 


End file.
